


Stone by Stone

by Matilda1901



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love, Married Life, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 17:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18878287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matilda1901/pseuds/Matilda1901
Summary: Finally, her words came in a rush.  “But I seem to have built my own wall.  Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me.  And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”First work ever posted here.  Wanted to get this up before the finale tomorrow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know the ending I hope for won't be coming. So this was cathartic for me. I hope you enjoy!

She was standing on the ramparts when the scroll was brought to her.

 

_It is done.I’m coming home.Within a fortnight.-Jon_

 

Over the next few days, details of the great battle for Kings Landing travelled North.Jon was rumored to be a hero, along with many of the northmen who went south, but she did not care to hear them.Sansa’s calm demeanor and practical considerations for the castle and surrounding countryside hid her immense joy that the first message she had received had contained all the most vital information.He was alive.And he was coming back North.He was not lost forever. 

 

Whatever came next, she could not imagine it would ever measure up to what they had faced in the last few years.He was her safety, the most trustworthy, solid thing in her life save the walls of Winterfell.He was her home.

 

~

 

If he was honest, she had been the reason he survived. This was a thought that swam in his head the entire ride up the King’s Road, rolling between his ears the way one might play with a knife in the hand, testing its balance and weight.Searching for a flaw.An untruth.

 

Amid the roar of the battle he had seen her in his minds eye, alone by the fire in her chambers.Unprotected.Growing older and older.Strong, because he must admit she was _that_ , but melancholy and contained.He thought of that night in Castle Black, when they drank and she smiled, her eyes twinkling in the fire light.With every swing of his sword he vowed to go back, to do his best to bring that smile back to her face day after day and to make sure she was never forced to do anything ever again.She was too young, too many of her days spent in sadness or terror with no choices.Smiles and choices.And laughter.By the Gods, giving her those things would be his life’s work if he survived.And he had; that image of her had been his shield, his last reserve of strength.

 

Every step of the horse brought him closer to her, and the closer he came, the greater his longing for her.The longing had settled in his chest; it was the ache he felt after Ygritte had died, after he realized he would never speak to Father again.And yet it was different because she was still flesh and blood and he would wrap his arms around her again.He found himself imagining the moment he would hold her over and over as he watched the cherry blossoms float down the streams of the Riverlands. An image he recited like a pray.He had not held her, not like he truly wanted since before he left for Dragonstone, before she had urged him to not be stupid and end up dead.

 

One night, he had a dream.They were close, so close he could smell her hair, and he was holding her and she was warm against him.This he had dreamt before.But more now, they had no end or beginning, they were one, and beyond their beings nothing else existed.And when he woke to the clear night sky above him, there was a smile on his lips that slowly evaporated as the ache in his chest turned into white hot embers that were named something other than longing.  
  
~

 

When the ravens warned of his arrival in 2 days time, she sent to have a feast prepared.By the fire, she put the finishing touches on the gown she had made for the occasion. _For him._ It was green.The color of the grass and the trees and life she had yet to live.

 

And the halls echoed with laughter and bustled with work and the smells from the kitchen wafted into the air to greet him before he entered the courtyard.

 

And she was there, with Bran and Brienne and the rest, and when he walked towards her she reached with both hands to cup his face.Slowly fluttered her thumb along the new scar that ran from his cheek up to his forehead and held his gaze.Then wrapped her arms around him and held on.The smell of her hair was just as he remembered.

 

~

 

Months passed as they worked together to rebuild Winterfell and strengthen the North as a whole from the devastation brought by years of war.The days grew warmer but the nights were still cool and they settled into a rhythm of sitting together by the fire in the evenings.She worked on embroidery and finely made garments while he cleaned blades after the days training and occasionally read. Other nights, they drank wine and laughed through the retelling of stories from the old days.Of Robb and Rickon.And Arya.They would speak of concerns for their people and debate possible outcomes of policies but most of the time, they sat in a warm, pleasant silence… content to keep each other company after so many years without the option.

 

Each night ended the same, with Jon rising from his chair, and with a slight nod and bend at the waist wishing her, “Goodnight.”

 

She had imagined that it would be different.That he might ask for her hand, perhaps the day he had come home.There was nothing to stop them now.But the question had never come.And though it seemed practical to her, she could not bring herself to suggest it. She knew he would never hurt her, that she would never be so confident of that fact with another man.But when Sansa searched her heart, she found there was a guard she could not put down.Unattached and safe at Winterfell, she had power.She had control. She had Jon and, except for the few nights when she hugged herself to sleep, their quiet nights together might be enough. 

 

_What good was love anyway?_ When Sansa calculated the totals, it had only ever brought loss.

 

It was the day a kitchen servant and stable hand had asked if they might marry and continue their work in the castle. They were discussing the young couple and Jon had impersonated the dumbstruck face with which the lad looked at his love. Sansa had burst into a fit of giggle.

 

“Can you imagine being in that kind of love?Where you just walked around drunkenly?” she asked

 

“I have been,” he said quietly.When Sansa looked at him in surprise, he continued.“She had hair and skin same as yours.But she was not a lady like you,” he said with a small smile.“I met her north of the Wall.She was… infuriating.Brave.She asked for what she wanted. Demanded it, really.I broke some of my vows for her.I might have broken more but things didn’t…” He cleared his throat and then finished abruptly. “She died.”

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said, though her face was a mixture of shock and confusion.

 

He gave her a slight nod. In the silence that followed, Sansa mulled his words over in her head but he interrupted her.“What about you?Do you wish to be in love like that?”His eyes held hers across the expanse between their chairs.

 

“I don’t know,” she said.When he still did not look away, she looked down at her hands in the lap.“Mother told me once how she and Father had not loved each other from the beginning.It happened over time.Stone by stone… her words.She seemed to be telling me that was not such a bad way, but I was too silly then to understand.She was telling me how stones last.Walls last when you build them with care and patience.”She paused here.He could see her debating if she should continue.Jon held his breath hoping she would.  
  
Finally, her words came in a rush.“But I seem to have built my own wall.Stone by stone, little by little, after each of them disappointed me, hurt me.And now that they are dead, I sometimes fear I may die behind my wall that no one can can walk thru.”

 

She then looked back at him with a ragged breath, her face marked with insecurity.For all the things they talked about, they rarely spoke of themselves.To calm her nerves, he gave her the smallest of smiles but his eyes were sad, “Do not think that that I joke.But perhaps you will find someone who can climb a wall.And he could help you take it down.Stone by stone.”

  
~

 

Not long after, there came an evening when, they began to speak about Father.Stories he had told them.Rules he made them follow.How Sansa had not broken them and Jon, with help from Robb and Theon, certainly had.The first time he had caught Bran climbing the walls.The first time he caught Arya with her bow.As the sounds of their quiet laughter faded, they both stared at the fire and a sadness that they always circled but never named crept into the room.

 

“What will become of our house, Jon?Of our family?”

 

There it was.The question they had both asked themselves but never each other. She felt a flush rising in her cheeks as the moments since her question stretched to an incredible length. Her mind raced for something dismissive or cheeky to say.How had she expected him to answer?

 

“Sansa,” he said quietly, as he turned slightly in his chair, offering her his hand with the palm up. She took it and when he spoke, his thumb stroked the top of her hand.“There is not a thing in this world I would not do for you.Tell me what you hope for and I will find a way to bring it to you. But it will always be your choice.Your life will be your choice.I will never ask anything of you, you do not want for yourself.All may stay as it is, or change, but only as you would have it.”

 

He lowered his eyes to where their hands were joined. _I would give you babes if you would let me, and pleasure, and warmth.I would sit here like this with you until we are old and never ask for more.I would tell you of my love every day or never speak of it.I would leave if you want another though you would live in my mind until I draw my last breath._ His heart beat all of these things so loudly it threatened shatter the windows.

 

When he looked back at her face, he saw her eyes filling with tears.Then with a deep breath, she straightened her back and blinked them away.“Thank you,” she whispered.“I shall think on that.”

 

He raised her hand towards his lips but looked to her for permission before placing a kiss there.Her small smile was all he needed to proceed.He stood and gave her hand one last squeeze before letting it go.“I’ll say goodnight, then.”

 

That night, as rain began to fall against the castle, Sansa dreamt of her Father’s wish for her. _Someone brave and gentle and strong._ She felt Jon holding her, rocking her, in his arms when they first saw each other at Castle Black.She saw the rage in his eyes as he beat Ramsey in the mud of the courtyard. _For her._ She thought of the way he laughed from his eyes and deep in his chest, and the demons he had faced and defeated.She felt his hand holding hers as it had tonight.She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her knees into her chest. The pleasant warmth that his thumb had left on her hand spread across her body.She dreamt of Jon’s hands spreading over her body as no hands had before, gentle and strong.

 

Sansa had never felt true desire in her body before.She had been just old enough to desire a fairytale and then experienced pain at the hands of men.When she woke from her dream, the sun shone through the windows and the dampness between her legs shocked her.

 

How could she ask this of him?The secret, his secret, was still kept from the small folk.To even consider this, he would have to admit who he came from.And could she ask that of him?Could she bare her body to him, truly be with him?A dream was one thing but perhaps reality might be another.It had been years.It had never been pleasant.

 

That same night, Jon walked to the Godswood.Sitting beneath the weirwood’s branches, he let the rain collect in his hair and on his cloak.When he couldn’t find words for the desires of his heart, he bowed his head to let his tears mingle with the rain, fall upon the ground, and soak into the earth.

 

~

 

The High Council of Westeros sent an official message to be read in every town square from Starfell to White Harbor about a month later.It stated that the last two claimants to the throne, Jon Snow, and Gendry Baratheon, had forfeited their right to rule the Seven Kingdoms in favor of forming a representative government. The Iron Throne had been destroyed without ceremony.The current High Council of Westeros was composed of 5 temporary members until the true vision for the council could be formed, with each kingdom holding 3 seats, a total of 21 members.The message went on to give time lines and suggestions for how each region might select it’s representatives.

 

Sansa had read the words in their entirety but had not seen Jon when he arrived in her room that evening.

 

“Have you read it?” she asked before the door had shut.

 

“Aye.”

 

“Did you know they were doing this the whole time?Why have you not told me?”

 

“Sansa-“

 

“Did you think I wouldn’t want to know?Wouldn’t have an opinion on whom to select?Have you been quietly lining men up for these positions while you kept me occupied with fireside chats?”

 

“Do you still, STILL, have no faith in me a’tall?No trust?”He had not glared at her or raised his voice since before the war.Nor she done the same to him.

 

She chewed her bottom lip and then said, “Please explain to me.”

“I knew nothing of a new council.I have not been jockeying men into position.The morning after the last battle, Tyrion came to my room.Dany was gone and he begged me to announce who I was, to take the throne.I had already started to gather my things and sent you the raven.I told him no.He told me it was my duty for the good of the people, the stability of the realm.I told him my duty was to the North, not the realm.I told him there were hundreds of men in the Seven Kingdoms who were smarter, better equipped to handle the problems we were bound to have after the war.That he should find those men and put them in a room to sort it out and that way if one or even 10 of them died, there would be no more wars. Let them argue but not fight.And I told him I would never raise my sword in combat again.Then he threatened to find the proof that I was the heir.That the people would crown me, the great hero, a dragon rider, the savior of King’s Landing. I told him whether I was Ned or Lyanna Stark’s bastard, I was still a Snow and he would never be able to prove otherwise.Then I left.”

 

“But there is proof.”

 

“What’s left of it, inside Bran. His word. But there is nothing on paper.Sam spilled ink on the page-“ Sansa’s mouth gapped at this and he quickly added, “I asked him to.I’m done fightin’.I’m done bleedin’.One more scare like this and I’ll look like The Hound.I don’t want to be an old man who scares little children.”

 

Sansa considered this.“But what do we say, when the Northmen hear of this?How do we explain that you were on the list?”

 

“I will own to being Lyanna’s son, but a northern bastard just the same.Anyone who knows for certain is dead.And I will hope no one would question my loyalty to the North, though I doubt it matters anymore.You are still the Lady of Winterfell.There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.”

 

“And what happens when I am gone?”

 

“That will not be for a very long time. A great many things can change.”

 

 

~

 

It happened in the Godswood.After the kitchen maid gave birth to a baby in the night and the whole of the castle listened to her struggle.Sansa left her chamber in the wee hours to see if the Maester could do anything but the young woman had just reached the end of her ordeal.Sansa could not remember the last time she had seen a woman holding a baby, brow still wet with sweat from her work.Leaning across the bed was her man who had fought the dead while she and the girl had hidden in the crypts.She remembered her in a quiet corner, tears silently streaming down her checks with a hand on her flat stomach.Looking at the girl now, after hearing her cries of pain, Sansa saw clearly for the first time since she was a girl what she wanted.Not what she must do to survive or for the good of others.What she wanted for her own.

 

At sunrise, Sansa walked to the Godswood to find Jon.He had taken to starting his days there not long after their unsettling conversation in her chambers.She was a vision walking among the trees, the red dawn light glittering in her hair.Jon’s felt the ache to touch her in his heart and hands.

 

“He’s a plump little thing.Pink and happy.The stable hand is beaming with pride,” she told him on her last few steps.“They say they will name him Jorah.”

 

Abruptly, she knelt down to meet him where he sat.“Jon.”She opened her mouth and closed it.She looked down at his knee and placed her hand there.She did not normally touch him this way.Their eyes met.“You told me I could choose.That I could ask and it would be so.”

 

“Aye,” he said, patiently.

 

“Would you kiss me?”

 

His heart pounded in his chest. He thought to question her. _She could not mean… after all this time?_ He had hoped when he returned, perhaps at the feast, that she would give him an indication.Cousins married often.She must know by his returning that he placed her life above anyone else. But she never crossed the line and he dare not.Even with their recent talks, he would not pressure her.She took after her mother and the Tully words - _Family.Duty.Honor._ \- how much of herself had she already given to family and duty?He could not risk her giving more for those reasons. He would die without her before he would take her for the sake of duty.

 

He did the only thing he could think to do to give her time to change her mind.He leaned in slowly to her, placing his kiss near her mouth, but still on her cheek.When he finished, he didn’t pull back all the way.He lingered, their noses almost touching.“Will that do?” he whispered.

 

“Not quite,” she whispered back.

 

He pulled back to look in her eyes.All he saw was certainty, trust, anticipation.His throat seemed to close. “You will tell me to stop, if it’s not what you had in mind?” he questioned, as he gently took her hands in his own.

 

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath.

 

He kissed her temple first.Then the other.Then the 2nd cheek.Then her jaw.And then, pausing to nuzzle her nose as he brought a hand to cradle her head, he finally allowed their mouths to meet.The kiss was light but lingered on and moved to capture her lips separately and then together. _She will know tenderness.However ever much I burn for her, she will know tenderness,_ he thought, even as he shook with the effort behind his self-control.  
  
Sansa had seen shooting stars in the night sky and it was as if a shower of them had flown through her chest and stomach and toes.

 

“That better?” he asked.

 

“Yes.”Her hand moved to the nape of his neck and their eyes met.

 

She drew him back to her.In a few beats, the kiss had deepened, their lips dancing across each other.When they broke apart, they were breathless.

 

“I’m sorry, Sansa.”

 

“No.No.I just… I fear I want… too much.” 

 

“Me too.”

 

“Jon,” she said, her hand sliding thru his hair to the scar on his cheek, “do you… with me, would you ever want… I know I am not…” and she looked down then and bit her lip.

 

He drew her into an embrace, into his lap, soothing her.“You are everything,” he whispered in her ear.“Sansa, if you would have me, I would love you every way I can imagine.It would be the honor of my life if you would be my wife.”

 

At this, her arms crushed him more tightly to her.She felt a tear slid down her cheek.“I didn’t know if you would want me-“

 

“I have wanted you since I road back up the King’s Road.Maybe before, if I’m honest.”

 

She was aghast.She playfully swatted him but it fell hard in her shock.He made an awkward yelp.“Why would you not say?” she cried.“All those nights we sat together?”

 

“I wanted you to make up your own mind,” he said simply, rubbing his shoulder.

 

“Well, you must swear to not hide something like that from me again!”

 

“I swear it,” he said with a smile.An image of Catelyn when she was angry flashed in his mind.She was fierce in just the same way.Fiercely loyal, fiercely noble. Fiercely loving. 

 

She saw his eyes fall to her lips and felt tension in his hand where it lay on her arm. _This won’t do,_ she thought.“And you must swear to kiss me.I shall always want you to.”

 

His hand went to her cheek and he looked deep into her eyes. “I swear it, I swear it,” he mumbled over and over against her lips.

 

 

Later that day, they were married beneath the branches.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is going to be STEAMY. If that's not your thing, you have been warned.

Jon entered her chamber that evening as usual, though he wore only his shirt and pants which was less than normal, she noted.There had only been a simple dinner together, just as they had wanted, and all that was possible in their haste.She had removed her dress and corset and stood in a robe at the foot of her bed.She had clearly been pacing.At his entry, she froze.

 

“I took off my dress,” she said. Her voice was high and unsteady.“I thought… I hope you don’t mind.”She could not bring herself to explain why it had to be this way.Why it could not be like the other day she had made vows beneath that tree in _any way._

 

“You look lovely.”Her hair was falling across her shoulders and back, free, the way he liked it.

 

He stepped toward her, intending to draw her into his arms, but he saw his lips purse.Something imperceptible to others.But he knew it meant she was trying to control her nerves.He knew he must go slowly, must give her the power until her body learned that he only wished to give her pleasure. _How do I disarm myself?_

 

He knelt at her feet, holing her eye contact. 

 

He slowly placed his hands on her waist and nuzzled his face against the softness next to one of her hip bones. 

 

He felt her breath alter and he looked up at her face.“What would you like to do, my wife?” he asked, smiling, without a hint of expectation.

 

How did he know?She would wonder this for the rest of her days.How did he know what she needed when she herself did not.How could he tell her there was no wrong answer to his question without using words. _Because he is Jon._ _You know every subtext, every inflection.You can read him as only people who have shared life can._

 

“Have you kiss me.” 

 

Jon turned his face into her stomach and kissed her through her clothes.He moved slightly, and kissed her again.And again. When he got to her hip, his trail turned south, down the outside of her thigh, one of his hands following behind, brushing ever so lightly where his mouth had been.A flush rose in her cheeks.When he came to the middle of her thigh, he looked up at her again.His eyes were soft.“Would you like to open your robe?So I can kiss your knee?”

 

She nodded, almost laughed _for who thinks of kissing knees_ , and reached for the knot in the sash.It parted to reveal a beautiful icy blue night dress that fell to just above her knees.Jon kissed her once though the fabric of the dress and then moved his mouth to the outer edge of her knee.He shifted his weight as his head disappeared inside her long robe, to kiss the back of her knee.He sucked gently.Her nipples tightened and she wanted his mouth to do the same there and _what a strange thought that was.To want a man on her body._

 

He moved down her calf, to her ankle, and then back up the other leg, turning to her inner knee and thigh, but stayed on top of the fabric once he reached the hem of the nightdress.He grasped her left hand, his lips moving to her wrist, up her forearm, to her elbow, and he was standing, their eyes level and her hands in his hands.“More?”

 

“Please.”

 

He lowered his mouth to her collar bone.The place where her neck met her shoulder.She moaned.He stilled and then kissed the same spot.Ran his tongue over it.Sucked.She moaned his name and shrugged her shoulders.He pulled back to look at her eyes, taking it as a sign to stop but then he understood.The robe slid back and dropped to the floor.

 

Jon had no memory of seeing her with so few clothes.He could not believe she was his wife. A few fine wisps of her red hair were draped across the weight of her breasts and Jon could see how they curved and peaked against the soft fabric. He longed to put his mouth on them.But no, not yet.He would have plenty of time for that.Perhaps later tonight, or another night.He would wait for her.

 

He kissed her mouth, a full, strong kiss, while lacing his fingers in hers.Their foreheads rested against each other.“Can I touch you?” he rasped.

 

“Yes.”

 

He moved one hand to her waist, ran it up her ribcage and across her back.Her nipples brushed against his chest but he was careful not to press into her too much.He rained kisses down her neck, all the way out to her shoulder, then returned to her mouth, letting his other hand settle on her hip.Her ams moved to wrap around him, a hand mindlessly running though his hair.

 

It was she who ran her tongue across the seam of his lips and he opened them immediately.Their tongues stroked against each other, growing exponentially braver, faster than either expected.She shifted to step closer, separating her legs slightly, an involuntary response to the voice in her head begging her to close every gap between them. She felt need coiling in her body that only grew and grew and would seemingly never be satisfied. And she felt him.Hard and waiting against her stomach, pressed between them with the clothes.

 

He had not intended for it to happen.He had meant to bring her fully to her pleasure before she gave a thought to his.And Jon’s worst fears of this night were confirmed when she broke the kiss to step back from his arms.“We can stop,” he offered immediately, his hands reaching for her of their own volition.

 

“Please, Jon.” He watched as she reached for the back of her neck to pull a string.The night dress loosened, fell down her shoulders and on to the floor.Only her small clothes remained covering her most intimate place.“Can we go to the bed?”Her eyes were wild as she crossed back to him then, kissing him quickly and pulling the shirt from his pants.His arms flew over his head as she removed it.

 

“Sansa.My beautiful,” he marveled.His mouth moved to her breast without full thought of what he was doing.He teased a nipple with the pad of his tongue as his hands ran over her bare hips and waist for the first time.

 

“Oh, yes.Yes,” she whined as her hands ran across the taunt skin of his back, into his thick hair.He took the whole nipple into his mouth and lightly sucked.She cried out and held his head firmly in place.Jon obeyed her, happily lost in her sweet, soft flesh.He made his way to the second, cupping the other and slowly steering her back to the bed.When they reached their destination, Sansa pulled back from his kiss.“How should I… how would you like me to be when…?”  
  
Her eyes went shy and uncertain as she looked at the bed and he understood. _She expects me to take her now. She doesn’t know what else we might do. Oh my sweet girl,_ he thought as he ran his fingers thru her hair. “There are places I would like to kiss you still.And touch you.”His fingers ghosted over the lowest part of her abdomen.

 

“There?”

 

“If you will let me.I’d like to very much.”He knelt again, kissing her breasts on the way down, kissing her hip as he had before, but this time his trail took him ever closer to her center.He rubbed a single finger feather lightly over her small clothes noting they were already wet.

 

She trembled slightly.Jon ran his finger over the same course again.And again.All the while looking up into her eyes.Her fingernails dug into his shoulder. She expelled an indistinguishable breathy whisper.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Take it off.”And Jon obeyed, lightly caressing her soft bum as he did.He placed his nose into her red curls and his tongue darted out to find the top of her slit.“Oh, GODS.” Though she knew what he meant to do, she could not contain her shock.

 

“Would you lie back for me?Sit right here,” he said, patting the edge of the bed.

 

She did, lying back while staying propped on her elbows as he slowly moved between her legs.Then he saw them.Scars up and down the soft skin of her inner thighs.Tiny lines, too many to count.He refuses to let her see him flinch at this horrible revelation.He kisses them, runs his tongue against them, wants to erase them.Then he places a hand on top of her mons and allows his thumb to disappear into her heat.She is so wet Jon’s heart pounds with pride.Her head falls upon the mattress and when he circles her clit she arches her back and bites her lip.

 

His mouth is close now, so close, and she wants it but can’t help but wonder how he can do this, how he can want this.One of his hands has wandered up to her breast and his thumb still slowly circles her clit. 

 

“You’re so beautiful, you smell so good.” he murrmurs against her thigh.Then his lips are on her lips and he parts her folds with his tongue.

 

Worshipped is a word Sansa had never liked.She always thought of the person bending, to do the worshiping and it made her nose wrinkle.She was not one to bend, nor respect another who would.Yet that is what she felt. _Worshiped._ She marveled at the power she must have, that she did not fully understand, for Jon was not one to back down from her in a fight.He did not bend and he was submitting to her, serving her.Yet the opposite was just as terrifying.He was on his knees and she felt the power he held _over her_.The pleasure that came from being caressed in such a way and that he was the source of all of this pleasure made her feel weak in a delicious, foreign way.It was a mystery that, for all her understanding of politics, Sansa could not fully comprehend.And still she bit her lip, trying to stay quiet, afraid of the noises she might make.

 

Her body grows more and more ridged beneath his hands.He uses his whole tongue to cover her clit, stroking it.He uses his thumb again as he looks up the length of her body and can see her scrunched up face.“Please love, tell me.Tell me.”His beard scratches delightfully against her thighs as his mouth returns to her.

 

“Good.” she manages, releasing her lip and allowing herself to pant.“Good good good!” Her voice rises as he enters her with his tongue.“So good.”Her hands are gripping the furs, his hair, he can tell by how she pulls it she is close.She begins to buck her hips against his face.

 

He returns to her clit, sucking as he had her nipple and at the same time slowly sinks a finger into her heat.She thrashes beneath him and he curls the finger.Unintelligible words spill from her mouth; all he can make out is _Jon_ and _please._ She cannot get there.He reaches for her hand buried in the furs, lacing their fingers together.He gives her a second finger, his thumb returns to her nub, moving faster.She feels his breath on the apex of her thighs when he tells her, “Let go, my love.Let go and let me hear you cum.”

 

It’s those words that undo her. _Love. Cum._ Two things she has never felt.She cries out, a scream that is feral and he licks her until her hips finally still.

 

He climbs up the bed to lay next to her and she is still whimpering.He gathers her against his chest and she cries harder, her arms crushing him.   
  
Pleasure at his hands was a revelation.Her heart overflows that she is his and breaks that she ever knew differently.She thinks of what they say the wall looks like now - a hole that a line of a thousand men could march thru in lock step and she thinks her own wall must look the same after tonight.  
  
She throws a leg over his hip because she wants to disappear inside his arms.It’s then that she feels him pulsing between them.His breeches are still on and she has barely touched him.She looks into his face with wide eyes.“Ohhh… I am so selfish,” she says, tears still in her eyes.

 

“No,” he says firmly, stroking her cheek.“To see you like that was all I wanted tonight.I am satisfied… though I cannot help what you do to me.”

 

“Oh Jon.” She kissed his lips and across his face as he had done for her.Then whispered in his ear, “Give me a babe.Tonight, now.That’s what I want.”She would never be so bold, but she is drunk on the feeling of her peak.  
  
Her hand drifts to the laces that restrain him and his pulse quickens.“Sansa..” Her fingers finally meet his flesh.It is painful, the fire inside him, how desperate he is for release.“I’m too close, please…” He reaches to still her hand. 

 

“Please, please,” she says, pulling his breeches below his arse with difficulty.He rises to help her, but they don’t even get them all the way off before he covers her with his body, kisses her lips.“You feel so good.”Beneath him, she pulls him closer, parts her legs so his hips will settle between hers and smiles up at him.

 

“I want it, Jon.I want you.”Her hands go to the small of his back as he leans down to kiss her.His hand guides his cock to her center and he runs the tip up and down against her sensitive flesh.They both groan.

 

He glides into her easily, she is wet and ready.She raises her hips to meet him and they grind against each other.He buries her face in her neck as he begins to move.“Sansa, I can’t… last.”

 

“Shhh,” she soothes.“You feel so good inside me.You fill me, Jon.Fill me.”

 

He kisses her lips lightly and cums with a shuddering cry after a half dozen slow strokes, his pride slightly wounded that she will always remember having to endure him in such a state their very first time.He buries his head in her neck as he softens inside her.“I’ve wanted you for so long.I’m sorry, this was-“

“This was perfect. You were so good to me.”She wraps her legs around his back, holding him where he is, and takes his ear lobe in her mouth, kisses his neck, as she tells him, “I can think of nothing but babes.Our babes.That we will make in this bed. That would shriek with laughter and run and climb in the castle and break our rules.”

 

“Not if they take after you.And Gods be good, they would.”

 

She holds his face so she can look in his eyes. “I want boys.With dark curls that fall in their eyes.And you can teach them everything.So there will be more men like you in this world.”

 

He is still inside her and she feels him springing back to life.She rocks her hips against him and kisses him again, their tongues mimicking their bodies.He palms her breast and teases her nipple.She bucks against him harder; he is nearly as hard as he was before.

 

He places a hand beneath her back.“Come,” he says, and starts to roll them so she is on top.He slides out of her and immediately feels the loss.Quickly dispensing of his pants, he rises to meet her, seated, their chests against each other and places her bum between his legs with hers dropping across his thighs.

 

“I miss you,” she whines, and he reaches down to his length so they can be joined again.He is patient as she works for the right angle, and once she sinks onto him with her head thrown back and arms across his shoulders, his own hands return to the glorious firmness of her rump to help her find a rhythm.They sit face to face, joined together, unable to look away from each other.He is hot and hard inside her; she is fuller than she has ever been. He uses his mouth to tease her breasts, he cannot get enough of them.They grow damp with sweat as they leisurely rock against each other finding new skin to kiss and lick.Their foreheads rest against each other as he stills against her, sheathed as deep as he can go.He uses his thumb against her nub and she cries out. When he removes his hand, she is insistent, “No, please more-“But he finds her hand and brings it back with him to her core. He guides her fingers with his own across the place where their bodies meet.

 

“Touch yourself,” he whispers. “Show me what you like.”She looks into his eyes as her fingers move experimentally.It doesn’t take long before her strokes grow bolder.“Yes, that’s it,” he whispers.His hands move back to her bum, encouraging her to rock against him as she pleasures herself.“I want to feel you, Sansa.I want to be inside you, feel you peak around my cock.To squeeze it dry.”He stares at her as he says this, his pupils blown, eyes black with need.

 

Sansa is on fire.She groans and whines as the slow pace and his shocking words build upon themselves into a need even greater than before.He is so full inside her but she wants more and more as she sinks against him with greater urgency.He digs his hands into her bum and matches her.And suddenly, she breaks apart.She feels her body clench around him, spasm after spasm, and all she can do is tremble, face frozen, lips in an O.

 

It’s her face, that beautiful face he knows so well and has never seen with such an expression of abandonment that sends him over in huge spurts, much more force than before.  
  
She looks upon him in this moment and thru the fog of ecstasy begins to understand _what I do to him._ She has never seen him so vulnerable as the expression he makes when he lets go inside her.

 

They cling to each other, collapsing onto the bed in a pile of limbs.Slowly his strength returns and he gathers her to him beneath the furs.They sleep like that, her bum fit against his length, one of his hands cradling her head, the other possessively clutching her breast.

 

~

 

They stayed in their room for 3 days.Sansa would blush for years, thinking of those first encounters.How starved they were for each other.

 

She woke to him hard against her back.She shifted herself, not to get away but closer.His hand traveled lazily down her stomach, eventually cupping her red curls, not invading her, just holding them together as they rose from sleep and rocked in preamble.She whispered his name for no particular reason, other than to identify the source of her joy.Her thighs were slick with desire.She felt this was who she was always meant to be; a well-loved woman meeting the dawn in her lovers arms.

 

“My love,” he murmured, planting kisses across her back. She turns to face him, kissing him, and she can feel the passion already over taking them.His hand drifts between her legs.“Oh love, you are so ready.”He uses two fingers, one on each side of her nub, to toy with her, and she moans into his mouth.

 

She rode him for the first time that morning.Watched him come apart beneath her, at her command.She learned that he was happy to allow her control, that he did not seek it for himself.But really, _of course I knew that, even before.He had never sought it.Power, position, he’d proven over and over his disinterest in it.  
_

Jon longed to be valued.To make other people happy, safe, comfortable, loved.All things that had a tenuous presence in his youth.It was this deference that made him perfect for her.


	3. Chapter 3

~

 

When she lost their first babe, he held her in his lap and rocked her.And cried with her.And pulled her back from her darkness with his hands and his love and his promises.

 

~

 

When she bore the next two easily, they found that joy had no limits.It could grow and multiply with each year, each heartbeat, each set of tiny hands and feet.Brandon and Benjen were just as she imagined they would be; their father taught them to be brave and gentle and strong.

He loved her body when she carried his babes.Her wide hips and full breasts and the flush in her cheeks.Really, he loved her always, but especially on quiet nights when he could lay with her and feel the strength of their child beneath his hand.He loved how her passion spilled out of her, always in the sixth month, when she’d beg him to lay her on her side and drape a leg over his shoulder as he entered her.And he would always oblige.  
  
He loved coming back to her after they were born.When so much time had passed, every touch felt new again, every noise she made was fresh in his ears.It helped him remember the beginning, when they were all nerves and desperate passion with everything left to discover.

~

 

 

When Benjen was nearly four and no more had come, he saw how it troubled her.And in her fears of never conceiving again, her wish to couple with him grew weaker, fewer.For it brought disappointment every month his seed would not take.  
  
He had returned from White Harbor and she had just finished helping him remove his vest and boots in their chambers when he retrieved a parcel from his satchel.It was white paper, tied with a single blue ribbon.He offered it to her, saying “I passed a shop and saw this.The color reminded me of something you used to wear.”

 

It was silk, icy blue, a night dress.Impractical for nights in the North, but so had the other been.“It’s lovely,” she said with a hesitant smile.

 

“You are lovely, my wife.”He knelt before her as he had well over 5 years ago, resting his cheek against her hip.

 

In all their time together, Jon had never bent the knee to her as he had that first night.They had made love and had sex and just fucked at every tempo they could conceive since that night.Her body was not what it was when she had that blue night dress their first year.She had to replace it when Jon had thrown it off of her one night, when they were on the floor and it had landed a bit too close to the fire.She rolled around naked on the bear skins laughing hysterically, watching him in a similar state of undress trying to put it out.The years had been more than kind to him; he was still every bit the handsome and lithe hero that had met her in their marriage bed.But she was not after 2 babes.And the change in her body’s appearance combined with what it no longer could do made her feel an insecurity unlike any other she had faced in her life.  
  
“I long to kiss you,” he whispered against her stomach.“I long to feel you… surround me.”He looked up at her.“I burn for you, Sansa, more now than ever.”

Those eyes of his, black with desire, and his brooding face, plaintive.His words.“I shall wear it another night,” she said, placing the parcel on the chair.His heart fell into his stomach, but she continued, “For now, you shall have to contend with this dress.”She turned her back to him, and looked over her shoulder demurely.“There are many buttons but you shall have your reward.”

 

He smiled up at her, looking sly and amused.He placed a hand on her ankle and slowly moved North.“I seem to have found a shortcut, my lady.”Before she could move, he had crawled under her skirts.And she shrieked with laughter as he blindly groped to his destination.

 

That night renewed them.And there could have been many nights (or mornings) when it happened during that month, but Sansa liked to think it was that particular one that brought about their 3rd son.They named him Eddard.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was short, but the next 2 will make up for it!
> 
> Any thought on the story so far or where it should go? I appreciate your comments!


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